Thus rode she forth, clothed on with scantiness, And in the pageant duly took her place, Along with camels and with elephants And men-in-armour, weakest at the knee, And Foresters with horns that wouldn't blow, And clumsy bows, and Odd-fellows as well, In fool regalia; and the Volunteers, And Fire Brigade, and several brazen bands. But chiefly 'twas on her all eyes were fix'd, And women wondered what she could have got For making of herself a show; and men Opined that cotton wool she'd freely used; And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, Drawing a pin and rushing at her horse Prick'd--but it was no good, the steed jogged on As theretofore: and thanks to frequent bangs And shouts of "Right" did reach the end at last Of the day's progress, much to its delight. And she was glad, and hastening to her room She slipp'd her garments on, and issuing claim'd Her fee, and took the earliest train to town, And in the ballet, in the foremost row, Danced with her fellows, winning great renown, As one who rode through Coventry in "tights," And built herself an evanescent name. BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. Tennyson writes thus:-- "Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me." "O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay!" "And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!" "Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me." Of this he has had numerous imitators:-- TO MY SCOUT. _After a smash (and Tennyson)._ Break, break, break! Plate, decanter, and glass! It's enough to worry a cherub, And loosen the tongue of an ass. It's all very well to declare That your "helbow" caught in the door, And your "fut" must 'ave 'itched in a nail, And you're very sorry, you're sure. And I'm very hard up just now, Three troublesome duns to stop, But I wish I'd only got half the coin I've paid to that china-shop. Break, break, break! You must order another new set. It's good for trade; but I'd like to know What is the commission you get? From _Odd Echoes from Oxford_, 1872. Here is another in a similar vein:-- Break, break, break, My cups and my saucers, O scout! And I'm glad that my tongue can't utter The oaths that my soul points out. It's well for the china-shop man, Who gets a fresh order each day; And deucedly well for yourself, Who are in the said china-man's pay.